A Whisper
by Skye007lex
Summary: The night before Ambrose’s ill-fated operation, he receives the most unlikely of visitors.


Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing of Tin Man. It belongs to Sci-Fi and its creators.

A/N: This is my first Tin Man story and hopefully you like it. Thank you for reading.

* * *

A whisper.

"Ambrose?"

The dark head of the Queen's advisor jerked upwards at the sudden invasion of sound, the single word echoing through his dark jail cell. Looking towards the tiny barred window of his cell door, he spotted the source.

"Azkadellia," he hissed with a veil of courage, his insides twisting as he shifted from his position on the hard floor. "Where is the Queen?"

"Ambrose, please there isn't much time," hazel eyes pleaded, her voice strangely gentle and worried. "I know what she plans for you."

"Where is your mother?" Ambrose bellowed, his joints creaking as he rose swiftly from the stone. "What have you done, Azkadellia?"

"Shhh!" she hissed with a frightened gaze. Her eyes fell shut briefly, as she inhaled a coarse breath, before looking again to Ambrose. "Please be quiet, my friend. I beg you."

"What right do you have to call me friend?" Ambrose growled in return, stomping towards the door with his head high and jaw tight. "Your actions speak not of a friend, but of a fiend!"

"Be quiet please," Azkadellia begged. A lone tear fell and a whimper followed, "You'll wake her."

Confusion crossed his features with a frown. Ambrose nearly cocked his head to the side as he did when generally presented with a rather difficult puzzle. "Wake who?"

"Her," Azkadellia replied, a cold chill strangling the air around them, "...t-the darkness inside me, Ambrose."

Standing close enough now to feel her breath against his face, Ambrose peered through the door's window with a hopeful prayer. He watched as she nervously peered down the passageway, left and then right, then turning back to him.

"I've got the keys," she spoke with a tense eagerness, a rattling sound accompanying her statement. "I have to get you out of the palace before she wakes." Words were jerky, like her movements, as she hurriedly scanned the dozen of keys that circled the large ring she held.

A sudden awareness slapped him abruptly as her words finally registered. Azkadellia's gaze was lacking the harsh blackness that had been clouding them for oh so many years. Even her tone had returned to the softer kind one that had once warmed the coldest of his days.

His princess was back.

"Azkadellia," Ambrose gasped softly, his breath rippling the strands of her hair that had fallen loose from their elaborate placement. "Is that really you?" His hands gripped the thin bars at the window, knuckles white.

"Yes," she smiled, salty tears trailing as she place a hand over his. She gave it a warm squeeze and breathily added, "It's me."

Ambrose let his head lower and he took in a deep and thankful swallow of air. She'd been lost for so long that he'd given up all hope of freeing her from the evil that had over came her. The past few years had been a cruel and cold hell. Forced to spy and plot against the child he'd once cared deeply for, had slowly taken its toll on his heart. When the cell door swung open and she came fully into view, his heart throbbed with emotion. The sinister tyrant had vanished.

"Azkadee," Ambrose beamed and closed his eyes with a ragged breath as the woman before him sprang into his open arms. They clutched at each other as if their lives depended on it, both scared the moment would be nothing more than a spiteful dream.

'_Oh, those eyes,'_ Ambrose sighed within as he pulled her face from his chest and cradled it between his palms. Those tender and kind eyes had haunted his memories and dreams. Every day he ached with the loss of their warmth. His laboratory no longer filled with their curiousness or engrossed gaze as he worked and studied. He'd lost his best friend.

"How?" was all he could muster.

"She's a dark and old evil," she answered. "DG and I stumbled across her prison, a cave deep in the forest."

"Is she gone?" Ambrose asked with a hopeful expression. "Are you free?"

"No. My emotions, when they're strong, bring her much exhaustion," Azkadellia replied as she covered his hands with her own. "She can't control them completely yet. I all but drowned us after DG's funeral, but before I could kill her one of the royal guards pulled us from the palace waters."

"But that would have killed you as well Azkadellia!" Ambrose gasped and jerked back.

"I'd rather be dead than watch her harm another soul." Her hands now achingly clutched his. "This morning, when she took you and mother… it broke me. I cannot loose everyone I care for. Ambrose, you have to help me. Please, help me stop her."

"I will," he promised and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, a hand brushing away her remaining tears.

"But if you can't, Ambrose," Azkadellia began with a heartbreaking frown, "You must end it."

A whisper.

"You must kill me."

"It won't come to that!" Ambrose urged, expression fearful. "And you mustn't speak of such things."

"No, Ambrose," Azkadellia pushed away from his arms, eyes wide. Clutching at the dark fabric of her gown, she trembled violently. "I can't take it, I'll go mad." She fell back against the wall and wrapped her arms around her tiny frame. "I spend my days and nights confined in darkness. I'm locked in a small and lonely room, with only two fogged windows that look out from my prison…this soulless monster." She was crying again, but the tears were no longer the joyful ones they had moments ago shared. "Forced to watch and listen to her merciless reign, without any means to interfere."

Azkadellia looked down at her hands with a frown, as if there was an invisible scar that should be marking her pale skin. "I try to break through the glass…to stop her. I bang so hard, until my hands are raw and red."

"Azkadee—"

"No!" she stopped his plea and stepped forward. "Promise me."

"I can't."

"You must, Ambrose," Azkadellia moaned, clutching at his shirt and jacket.

"Let us get to the Queen, she'll know what to do," he begged and tugged her down the corridor with a trembling hand.

"You know it's what must be done," Azkadellia continued with a dismal timbre. Letting him lead her away from his cell, she griped his arm with her free hand. "We can't let her win. She cannot rule the OZ."

"She won't," Ambrose replied, refusing to let the bubble of uncertainty float to the forefront of his thoughts. "The Queen will have a plan. She always does."

"I cannot contact mother!" Azkadellia cried and tugged the advisor to a sudden stop. "Not without using our magic… and that will surely wake her. It took six hours of unrelenting hysterics and screaming to exhaust her. She won't be fooled again, Ambrose and I'm too weak to try again."

With a pull to his arm, Azkadellia swiftly lead them in the direction they had just traveled. "We must get you out of here."

Adjusting their stride to a quick jog, they passed his empty cell and continued through the labyrinth of halls in a haze. The sounds of their steps and exerted breaths echoed through the still corridors. Darkness shrouded them, the occasional torch only glittering embers this late in the night. Turning around a final bend, they were finally greeted by the glow of the moon from a barred window. The hallway was basked in a soft blue light and Ambrose ushered them forward with a hand at the small of her back. The opening was high on the wall, but resting ground level on the outside. Ambrose stood tall and peered fully out the window, spotting only a single longcoat on patrol.

"You can easily overpower him, Ambrose," Azkadellia assured standing close. "His name is Sig and he is young and stupid. Forced into my-her…her ranks by his father."

"Your confidence in me is most valued," He responded as he shifted to face her. "But my abilities, unfortunately, do not permit me the strength to cut through steel." Ambrose gestured to the bars with a nod and looked uneasy by the circumstances.

She turned to the crisscrossed metal blocking his freedom and calmly replied, "I'll take care of them."

He held her chin gently with his hand and led her gaze back to his own. "But the magic…you said it would wake her."

"Its not matter, Ambrose," Azkadellia responded, the emotions in his gaze stinging her chest. "She won't be out for much longer."

"Oh, Azkadellia."

"Just move swiftly, Ambrose," she urged. "Once I do the spell she'll wake, but I think she'll be disoriented at first."

"It pains me to leave you, princess." He pulled her into a tight hug and she returned it gratefully.

The vision of the witch's plan for Ambrose flashed brightly in her memory and she hugged him tighter. "There will be even greater pain if you stay. For us both."

Azkadellia pulled back and met his eyes with a tearful gaze. She had so much she wished to say, but knew that their time was running short. All that mattered now was Ambrose's safety. There would, hopefully, one day be a chance for words.

"You must find the Mystic Man," she ordered, sounding stronger then she felt. "His power will heighten our odds."

"I will my princess," Ambrose promised, a hand at her cheek. "I will not fail you."

"You never have," she smiled and let her head rest against his hand, briefly satisfying her inner desires.

A harsh alarm sound above and they jumped apart with surprise.

"Oh!" Azkadellia startled. "We must hurry. Quickly, stand aside and be ready to run my friend."

He stood back and watched her close her eyes in deep concentration. Clasping her palms in front of her abdomen tightly, she pulled them apart slowly and a glowing orb materialized. It pulsed with magic, red sparks flying about. Then, with a jolt, Azkadellia opened her eyes and thrust the ball towards the window. The blast showered them in steel and stone debris, but produced a large opening for escape. Ambrose leapt towards it the moment the cloud of dust had settled. The bent and broken bars creating the perfect aid and he used them to lift his form towards the open night.

"Ah!" Azkadellia's painful cry ceased Ambrose's escape and he turned to look over his shoulder with worry. The princess was doubled over, sobbing in agony and clutching at her stomach and chest.

"Azkadellia!" he gasped and without thinking dropped from the window, rushing towards his friend.

"Nooo…" she gasped, head convulsing awkwardly in short stiff jerks. "Go…" But Ambrose had not heard her pleas. Her jaw clenched tight with her suffering and his thoughts clouded over with concern.

Kneeling beside Azkadellia, his worried expression grew as her entire body trembled. Head suddenly fell low, a curtain of hair masking her features. He reached a hand out towards her, wishing to comfort and ease her sudden hurt. A harsh and sudden grip snapped to his wrist and tore a surprised gasp from his throat. The hand tightened painfully, and he desperately tried to pull away.

"Azkadellia…"

A low cackle the response.

The fingers around his arm began to burn at his flesh and Ambrose lurched backwards, pulling his arm free and falling to the ground. Holding his injured limb against his chest, he gazed up in horror as Azkadellia swiftly rose and twisted towards him.

Hazel gone, black eyes starring down with cruelness.

"Up to no good, are we?" she asked with a sinister smirk. "I think I underestimated you girl," Azkadellia looked to Ambrose as she spoke, but he knew the woman locked within was the true recipient, "But don't worry…it won't happen again."

"Fight her!" Ambrose called out desperately. "You're stronger than her Azkadee!"

"Stronger?" Azkadellia laughed. "She has nothing left you fool. Wasting the last of her will and strength on you…" she shook her head in disgust, "…a servant. How pathetic." Longcoats surrounded them from each side of the hall now. They stood patiently, weapons pointed on Ambrose, awaiting orders.

She did not address the soldiers, but stepped closer to Ambrose with her head cocked to the side. "Now, what is so special about you?" Her hands were around his throat in an instant, pulling him to his feet and pushing him back against stone. The breath in his throat trapped and painful, as her grip tightened.

"I could kill him so easily, princess," Azkadellia whispered against Ambrose's cheek. "Just…a…tad…bit more…pressure," she taunted. "And then you will have lost everyone in your sad and small existence." She pulled away suddenly and laughed at Ambrose's struggled intake of breath. "But I do have plans for you first." This time addressing the wheezing man, "Big plans."

"I will give you nothing witch!" Ambrose hissed with a cough.

"Then I will take it!" she hissed in reply, soulless eyes burning into him. "Don't be mistaken, advisor, you are fighting for a cause that has already been lost. I suggest you go quietly."

"I will never stop fighting for the light."

With I flick of her arm, Ambrose was suddenly held up by Longcoats. "You'd better," Azkadellia growled and leaned closer. "Or when I finish, you won't be able to stutter my name without soiling your pants. You know not what I am capable of. Do…not…test me!"

With a handful of his hair, she jerked his head back painfully, taking sick pleasure in his wince of pain. Ambrose gave no other response, refusing to let her glimpse the panic in his thoughts. As she looked up at him, suddenly, black eyes clouded over with hazel. The witch jerked backwards, momentarily confused, but then shook her head until the blackness returned.

"Bitch!" she growled before looking to Ambrose with wicked glee. "She's pathetic," Azkadellia laughed with malice and brushed a hand down his chest, "In love with a lowly servant on her mother's staff." His eyes grew wide with the confession and Azkadellia only laughed harder at his response. "She never told you?"

"Quiet!" Ambrose shouted, his chest tightening.

"That is hilarious," she smirked, before pouting in mock sadness, "And at the same time…so damn sad."

"Stop it," he growled, aching for the woman trapped in her form.

"Tell me advisor," Azkadellia began, leaning against his chest, "Would you have returned her sentiments," a seductive brush of knee between his legs, "If she had ever had the chance to voice them?"

"Leave us alone!" he barked. Struggling against the men that held him in place, Ambrose desperately masked the flush with his anger. "Stop this!"

"Never," Azkadellia growled, seizing his chin painfully with a hand. "Though, before the night is through, you will be begging me to." She released his face with a jerk, wiping her hand on her skirt. "Take him upstairs. I think its time to get things started."

The men restraining him jerked Ambrose backwards, towards the stairs. He fought against their hold, heels pushing into the ground and arms thrashing against the tight grip. Ambrose grunted and shouted as he was pulled roughly to his hopeless fate.

Azkadellia laughed in cruel amusement, following the group higher into the palace and looking forward to the night's proceedings. "Front row seats, princess," she spoke, seemingly to herself.

A whisper.

"And the show should be quite unforgettable."


End file.
